Chapter 47

Equipped with two pieces of gear, Zhao Futu's strength reached 22 points, and his stamina was 17 points. He swung the fine steel longsword a few times and immediately found the weapon to be somewhat lighter, as if he couldn't fully exert his strength. The Silver Cross Sword Technique worked best with a heavy sword, especially a German-style decapitation sword with a counterweight ball. He estimated that the weapon's weight would need to be increased to over fifteen pounds to be more comfortable to handle.

"It seems I need to find another weapon when I return. I wonder if the Nightmare Space will choose a martial arts world from ancient China as the mission space. If I could get the black iron heavy sword used by Yang Guo in 'The Return of the Condor Heroes,' it would be perfect. The Silver Cross Sword Technique is based on the principle of 'great skill is simple,' which is similar to the black iron sword technique created by Dugu Qiubai!" Zhao Futu thought to himself. He still hadn't figured out the pattern of the Nightmare Space's mission world selection, and the information he had obtained from other contractors didn't provide any clues in this regard.

By now, it was already broad daylight.

The morale of this Yellow Turban remnant was low. After a fierce battle, everyone sat on the ground, eating the dry rations they had brought with them. When Zhao Futu and his men emerged from the camp, they hadn't brought much, just a bit of military rations, which would last for at most two meals if they were frugal. If he planned to incorporate these Yellow Turban soldiers into his own ranks, he would need to secure a batch of supplies first; otherwise, the newly gathered troops would disperse within two days.

"Let's go!" Zhao Futu patted the dust off his buttocks and said to the others, "It's not safe here!"

Where should they go now?

To be honest, Zhao Futu himself didn't have a clear plan. The Yellow Turban forces were too scattered, and no matter which direction he went, it would be difficult. Currently, he had three options:

1. Head to Wancheng and join the newly appointed Yellow Turban leader, Zhao Hong. Zhao Hong now had over ten thousand troops occupying Wancheng. Although the morale was low due to Zhang Mancheng's death, the city wouldn't fall immediately. However, this path was a dead end, as Wancheng was besieged by Han dynasty troops, and it was only a matter of time before it fell. Moreover, if Zhao Futu remembered correctly, Wancheng was captured by Sun Jian, the Tiger of Jiangdong!

One Bao Xin was already so formidable.

How terrifying would the legendary Tiger of Jiangdong, Sun Jian, be?

2. Lead the current group and operate independently, gathering more Yellow Turban remnants along the way to build a force. This path was more dangerous because he lacked capable generals, and the Yellow Turban soldiers couldn't sustain a large-scale operation. However, the rewards would be significant, as he had deduced that killing commanders would yield substantial rewards. A Yellow Turban leader could drop a deep blue key, so what would a commander with thousands of troops drop?

3. The safest and most stable option was to gather a group of elite soldiers and raid the Yellow Turban battlefield, reaping benefits without drawing too much attention from the Han army. More importantly, if no additional side quests were discovered, the stay would be limited to seven days.

Zhao Futu wasn't a clairvoyant. He could only make judgments based on the current information. A person with a bit of intelligence in the real world would still be somewhat intelligent in the Nightmare Space, but wouldn't suddenly become a genius. If he were truly a genius, he would have already succeeded in the real world, especially with the many legitimate and illegitimate channels available.

Intelligence should be applied to situations, not to people, as people are unpredictable.

After a brief moment of thought, he decided to focus on the immediate benefits. He couldn't go to Wancheng, but gathering troops was necessary. However, he didn't need to raise his own banner, which would attract the attention of famous Three Kingdoms generals. The best approach was to be low-key, leading a group to raid the battlefield, taking what they could get, and then leaving when they had enough.

With this in mind, he immediately ordered the Yellow Turban soldiers to be brought over. Once his energy was fully restored, he began using the Reconnaissance Skill on each of them.

This gave him a significant advantage over the characters in the story. He could identify the stronger individuals, use the Reconnaissance Skill to determine their attributes, and select a group of capable fighters. He chose about fifty people, gave them some equipment, and considered them part of his ranks. As for the rest, he didn't want to waste rations or kill innocents, so he left them where they were to fend for themselves.

Killing ordinary Yellow Turban soldiers wouldn't yield any benefits and would lower his reputation among the Yellow Turban troops.

...

"Big Leader! There's a village over there. What do you think?" A Yellow Turban scout ran up to Zhao Futu, excitedly.

Zhao Futu led his army eastward, and the landscape they saw was desolate. The once fertile fields were now overgrown with weeds, and the few villages they passed through were empty, with only a few stray dogs wandering around. The road was littered with half-buried bones, a stark contrast to the peaceful life he was used to. Initially, he was shocked, but after just one day, he had become numb to the sight.

The Yellow Turban Rebellion had left the land almost entirely depopulated. The lower-class people, who had been oppressed, became even more疯狂 when they rebelled. Perhaps at the beginning, they could be somewhat restrained, but ultimately, they turned into complete bandits, ravaging the Central Plains like locusts. If Zhao Futu had any hope for the Yellow Turban forces at the beginning, he was now completely disillusioned.

The Yellow Turban Rebellion was destined to fail. It was a hopeless situation that couldn't be changed.

A famous poet of the era, Wang Can, wrote in his "Seven Sorrows" poem: "When I go out, I see nothing but white bones covering the plains."

This was the scene Zhao Futu saw as he traveled.

After a day's journey, the group finally saw a village with people. The Yellow Turban soldiers immediately became like ravenous wolves, their eyes glowing green, especially the Yellow Turban bandits, who were eager to raid. Once people start down a path of violence, it's hard to turn back. These Yellow Turban soldiers had all engaged in looting and pillaging to some extent, and now, seeing a village with people, they couldn't help but have evil thoughts.

Moreover, they were all defeated soldiers with little food left. Many had eaten only one meal in the morning and were hungry by noon. Seeing a village, they immediately thought of raiding it for supplies.

Zhao Futu saw this and felt a chill in his heart.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

As the Yellow Turban soldiers approached the village, the alarm bells on the watchtower began to ring, and the village gates slowly closed.

Inside the village, there was a commotion as the able-bodied men gathered. Archers, dressed as hunters, appeared on the walls, clearly uneasy at the sight of the over two hundred Yellow Turban soldiers. In this era, villages had their own militias, and people of the same surname and clan would gather to protect their homes.

This village was different from the others because it had a wooden wall.

Seeing the gates about to close, many of the hungry Yellow Turban soldiers roared and charged forward, not even waiting for Zhao Futu's orders. Once they started, the herd mentality took over, and the rest of the Yellow Turban soldiers followed without hesitation. They had brought little food and had encountered only empty villages along the way. Now, seeing a village with people, they assumed Zhao Futu would also raid it for supplies, as the Yellow Turban leaders had done in the past.

The archers on the wall became tense as the Yellow Turban soldiers charged. The village elder, who appeared to be the leader, didn't have time to speak before the archers started shooting. The elder sighed, knowing it was too late to turn back, and swallowed his words. He had intended to negotiate with the Yellow Turban leaders, offering them some food in exchange for sparing the village.

But he didn't expect to encounter such undisciplined Yellow Turban bandits who charged without waiting for him to speak.

In fact, Zhao Futu's plan was to have the village hand over some food and then gather more people to see if they could capture a county or attack a local noble's fortress to secure enough supplies. Raiding such a village would yield little benefit and would violate his moral principles.

As a modern person, he couldn't bring himself to lead a raid on a village.

However, he hadn't expected the Yellow Turban soldiers' discipline to be so low. Without waiting for his orders, they charged as soon as they saw the village gates closing. Even though Zhao Futu had established some authority, these undisciplined soldiers, who had received no formal training, followed the others without hesitation.

The battle was inevitable.

The leading Yellow Turban soldiers were already hit by arrows, and many were red-eyed from hunger. A few strong men roared and crashed through the partially closed gates, engaging the village's able-bodied men in a fierce battle. The only ones left with Zhao Futu were the Yellow Turban strongman and a few more disciplined soldiers, who knew better than to charge recklessly.

At this moment, Zhao Futu felt a sense of despair, doubting whether such an undisciplined army could be led and whether trying to take advantage of the chaos would cost him his life.

But at that moment, the Nightmare Space gave a prompt:

"Contractor No. 1013 has triggered a side quest—Raid the Village! The quest has been activated, and nearby Han dynasty troops will come to support the village after seeing the smoke signals."

Soon, a bonfire was lit on a high platform in the village, and a column of smoke rose into the sky.